Strength, Humor, Serenity
by EchoDeltaNine
Summary: After escaping from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Sirius finds himself stuck in his Animagus form, and there's only two people in his life who ever stand a chance of getting him back to normal. Wolfstar.


**I**

_**Sirius**_

He crashes through the door, clutching at his ribcage and brashly wiping blood out of his eyes. He doesn't understand what has just happened, or why he deserves this, and all he can think about is _escape, escape, escape_.

He hears his mother screaming his name, her feet pounding on the stairs. Even though he's only sixteen, he throws every spell that he knows at the door to keep it firm and strong.

It gives him all of three minutes to throw together his most precious belongings before there is an explosion and the door bursts into flames. Panicked, he doesn't think as he blasts a hole in the wall to the room next to his.

His brother is standing by the door, pale-faced and scared. He shares a look with him. Young, precious Regulus. There is no time for apologies and goodbyes, but he spares one second to pull the boy into his arms and for Regulus to say his name in a choked whisper.

Then he is running—down the hall, dodging spells; down the stairs; through the passageways of the house.

He is mere feet from freedom when his mother appears in front of him. Her wand presses into the hollow of his throat and he stumbles backward into the wall. She bares her teeth—yellowed with age and from the clove fags she smokes—his name sounding like a nasty taste in her mouth.

_This is the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_, she snarls. _You are a disgrace; a traitor! And you will die._

Delirious with fear and panic, he draws his wand and shouts the first spell that comes into his head. It blasts half the house apart, throwing his mother across the entryway.

But he no longer cares because he is no longer a Black, and right this second he's not even human, and he only knows to _run, run, run. Escape, escape, escape_.

**II**

_**James**_

His parents lounge languidly by the pool sipping fruity drinks with far more alcohol than is warranted. He wishes he could have one, but his father's cast an age spell around the icebox and he can't risk nicking one without being caught.

Instead he sulks at the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in the water because it's too hot to _not_ and he's too bored to go in by himself. He sighs, adjusting his sunglasses to stare moodily out at the dying sun.

It's been a rough summer so far with no Sirius, Remus, or Peter to entertain him. Remus has familial obligations until mid-June, and it's always a fight to get permission for Sirius to come. And Peter...well, Peter isn't fun when it's only the two of them. There's not enough platonicity and far too much worship.

His mother calls his name and he turns, still pouting. He loves his parents—he really does—but they don't understand how miserable he is here by himself. _Go in the house and throw a pizza in the oven?_

He would argue but his stomach has been growling for an hour, and pizza sounds delicious. Grumbling to show his irritation, he pulls himself to his feet and does as she asks. He reads the directions three times before he puts it in the oven. No need to almost burn the house down again.

He's just returning to the poolside, a tame glass of lemonade in his hand when he hears the crash. His parents look at each other with tense faces, but he—confident in his abilities—calms them and says he'll check it out. His father follows at a distance. He pretends not to notice.

The crashing continues, mixed with a feral snarl and a sharp yelp. His heart nearly stops in his chest because he thinks he recognizes the whimper, but it doesn't stop him from hurrying around to the side of the house where the metal trashcans are sprawled across the driveway and trash is everywhere.

His father throws an arm across his chest to shield him from the threat. He ignores it, ducking under and moving out of reach. The shadows cast on the house nearly disguise the figure, but his father yanks him away from the snapping jaws right at the last moment.

He panics as his father raises his wand.

_Don't!_ He throws himself into the blast range, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Because there in the shadows, hackles raised, is Padfoot. He knows this like he knows his own name. This is Pads and no one is going to hurt him.

**III**

_**Remus**_

There are things in life that he believes are set in stone. Like his friendships and his family and his curse. Like James' humor, Sirius' strength, and his own ability to stay calm in all situations. This he knows and respects as facts of life.

So when James comes crashing into his living room through the floo, his eyes too bright, face paler than the full moon, looking scared shitless, he knows something is wrong.

He makes an excuse to his mother—_yes he will do his best to make it home for church tomorrow_—and follows James back through the floo without so much as a protest.

_It's bad_, James murmurs, tugging on his sleeve as they hurry through the house. _He's stuck. I didn't know what else to do._

He doesn't know what to expect, but this certainly isn't it. A single light bulb hangs from a string in the window of a shed. He watches it swing violently through the single window as they approach. James' dad stares pale-faced at the door. Father and son argue for a solid minute before he decides that he's going to face it with or without them.

He opens the door a crack and slips into the shed. There is nothing in it except for himself, the light bulb, and darkened corners. But he hears the growls and the snapping of jaws, hears James' swears on the other side of the door. His heart races in his chest, but he stands tall. Firm.

Taking a deep breath, he crouches close to the floor, directly under the light. Appearing small, he is no longer such a threat, and though James has told him nothing, he knows the sound of a wounded animal—a wounded friend.

He stares resolutely at a smear of blood on the floor. He hears the scrape of claws on the cement and feels the puff of breath on his face a moment later. The snarls are louder, angrier. He lifts his gaze slowly, taking in the left front paw held close to the chest, glossy black fur matted with blood, furious grey eyes glaring balefully into his own.

_Oh, Pads_. His heart seizes in his chest until he can't breathe and tears well in his eyes. _Oh, Sirius_.

**IV**

_**Padfoot**_

He sees Remus. Kneeling there, sobbing openly in the light. He can smell Remus. Never once was there fear, not like with James. But he's so hurt, and scared, and angry that he can't make himself calm enough to think rationally to turn himself back.

He hurts everywhere. His front left paw is cut and bleeding and he can feel more blood oozing from his forehead. His ribs still feel broken, and he's so scared and alone.

_Padfoot_. He bares his teeth because he is unsure what to do. He knows this is Remus. Remus is talking to him. Calm, reliable Remus. But not calm. Anxious?

_Sirius, you need to calm down_. Perhaps Remus is calm, but he doesn't know. Doesn't care. He is okay that Remus is here, because Remus isn't afraid of him, and Remus smells more like a wolf than a man. He should lick his wounds in private, but there is something comforting about Remus and he doesn't want to leave. _Sirius—Pads, you need to breathe. Breathe deep, like me._

He tries, he really does, but it doesn't stop him from biting hard and fast on the hand that reaches for him. He draws blood and yelps in panic because _fuck_ he's hurt Remus. Yet Remus hardly even cries out and, talking softly, soothingly, Remus shifts closer and threads long fingers into his fur.

He's not sure what's happened, but suddenly he finds his nose tucked into Remus's neck and he is being cradled by gentle, loving arms.

_It's okay, Sirius_, Remus whispers, stroking his fur. Remus' voice is choked with tears and he thinks that he might detect a distinct tone of anger.

But for the first time in hours he's felt safe so, exhausted, he lowers himself to the ground, his head pillowed on Remus's lap. And he breathes; deep, slow breaths that quickly bring him to unconsciousness.

**V**

_**Prongs**_

He no longer hears growling only soft, quiet sobbing. Exchanging a look with his dad, he pushes open the door to find Remus keeling on the concrete, his head bowed with hands buried in blood-matted fur.

_Rem_. He doesn't mean to say it—doesn't mean to interrupt the moment—but it happens, and Remus lifts his face to meet his eyes.

_He'll be alright_, Remus says, sniffling and stroking Sirius' head. _He just needs to rest_.

Whether Remus knows this or it's just a guess, he isn't sure. Only when twenty minutes later there is no longer a dog but a boy lying in his shed is he convinced that his friend is going to recover.

He knows that whatever happened to Sirius is far more horrible than he can ever imagine. If he was seventeen he would already have been to the Black house and would have killed them all. Because Sirius is his brother and he deserves to be treated with love and respect. It kills him to see such a strong person brought to their knees. Being an Animagus was easy for them, and Sirius was much more resilient than most of the rest of them.

He can't imagine the trauma that must have caused Sirius' inability to shift back to human form. He's never seen Sirius not be able to do something.

**VI**

_**Moony**_

He explains to James—after he's loudly protested to moving Sirius and is quickly shut down—that even Anamagi have limitations. While in the transformed state, the emotional and psychological functioning is stunted—a natural phenomenon when changing into a body that isn't human. The only problem is that, if hurt, scared, or overly angry, coming back to rational thought and human form may be difficult and nigh on impossible until the person is calm enough to transform himself back.

_Sirius was terrified, James. Very broken. Very angry._

_ I thought it might be something like that_. James stares worriedly down at Sirius. He hasn't left Sirius' side, and doesn't intend to do so until he absolutely has to. _That's why I got you. Because you're the only one who can calm him down._

He wants to argue, but if he's honest with himself, the thought makes him warm. All these years he's relied on Sirius to take care of him. Now it was his turn to return the favor.

Sirius sleeps for three days, and once he's sure that the boy won't be disappearing on him, he allows James to tow him downstairs for food and a break. But he worries all through breakfast and barely controls himself to stay in his seat when Mrs. Potter joins them. He knows James is watching him, judging him over their cereal. He pretends not to notice.

He's almost irrationally angry when he returns to find Sirius awake and the realization that he missed it. Most of the wounds are healed or almost-healed, but he can still see the bruises on Sirius' sides and face. His greeting dies in his throat as emotion rushes through him.

Even if he could speak, there wouldn't be much talking. He rushes to the bed and gingerly lifts Sirius into his embrace. Sirius clutches him back, face buried in his shoulder.

_You're okay now_, he assures Sirius. _No one's going to hurt you anymore._

**VII**

_**Sirius**_

He sleeps—or tries—for another day. Nightmares penetrate any rest he gets, and he finds it hard to relax knowing that he'll just be plagued with curses and fires and pain.

He's not sure how it happens, but one moment he's shifting restlessly in a bed, and the next Remus is holding his hand with lips pressed to his knuckles. It is sweet, loving, possessive, all in one. And James stands at the door, mouth slack, staring.

He pretends to be asleep still, even as they have a rushed conversation about love, and _you're what?_ And _him?_

His heart swells. Whether this is right or wrong is yet to be determined. And he doesn't care to think about anything except that Remus makes him feel safe. So once James has left, he pulls Remus down onto the bed with him; entwines their hands and bodies.

And maybe he hasn't stopped running yet—not from his mother—maybe he'll keep running for a long time. But the steady heartbeat under cotton t-shirt tells him that he's safe here, begging him to _stay, stay, stay_. And he promises them both that he's not going anywhere.

* * *

**A/N: Right, so this is my first Wolfstar fanfic. I've been inspired lately. And before anyone complains, I have 2 things. 1)I was purposefully trying to only use "he" in each section to apply to the character who was speaking. I realize this was a bit confusing. But it was supposed to be; and 2) I hope that I made a distinction between the character and their nickname. I wanted to focus Padfoot/Prongs/Moony on their brother bonds with each other, and the Sirius/James/Remus parts on their actual character. I hope I achieved that. Drop a review if you feel like it, or you have more complaints, or if you just want to chat :)**


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